


Copacetic

by Luckless_Salmon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blue lions path, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Post-Game, References to Depression, Relationship Issues, Sadboi Dimitri Hours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-08-10 19:48:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20141011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckless_Salmon/pseuds/Luckless_Salmon
Summary: Grief is a peculiar thing, or so Byleth realizes after the loss of she and Dimitri’s first son. Between her duties to the church and his inability to open up, the two struggle to reconnect and heal from their shared tragedy.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Summary: No father should ever have to bury his son.

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’ _

Byleth found that she rarely slept anymore, especially when she lay near her husband.

_ ‘Click.’ _

It hurt when Dimitri left, moreso now than ever before. She could feel his gaze boring into the back of her skull, the subtle sadness that had come to reside in his eyes seeping into her own form like a plague. Then, with a sigh, he would rise and silently prepare for his day.

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Clii-.’ _

She was now more familiar with the ticking of the grandfather clock nestled in the corner of their quarters than the sound of her husbands voice. Every 60 seconds, the hand would jam, struggle to complete another rotation around the clock face. It was much like Dimitri, she thought to herself. 

_ ‘Clll——.”_

Also much like Dimitri, she had no idea how to mend the clock. Such a... small dint in its face caused a litany of issues; it had somehow managed to survive hundreds of years of use, remained functional through invasions and misguided punches and normal wear-and-tear, but a small grain of sand sent it spiraling out of control.

_ ‘Clll-kkk.’ _

Byleth supposed it was cold to compare their late son to a small grain of sand, but she was fatigued and it was difficult for her brain not to formulate such juxtapositions. Especially when her own feelings on the matter were severely dwarfed by those of her husband.

_ “Crrrr-“ _

_ “Ccclll-“ _

“Stupid fucking clock,” a gravelly voice snarled, shattering the silence of the morning. There was a thunderous bang, followed once again by stillness and the ever-prominent march of time. 

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’ _

Byleth felt her breath catch in her throat, listened to Dimitri’s heavy footfalls cross the room. There was a pause, then the soft closure of the door.

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’ _

It had been ages since Dimitri had whispered his love for her before departing, something he used to do every day. It was just one of the many things Lambert had stolen from her.

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’_

Was it terrible to hate her own son? 

Byleth thought so.

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click.’ _

_ ‘Click’ _


	2. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a strange way of saying that I know I’m supposed to love you.

Garegg Mach Monastery was fabled to have been the Goddess’s favorite hideaway. With its sprawling courtyards and stunning architecture, it was no surprise someone as important as she would choose to spend her free time within its walls. 

Byleth appreciated the view from her office most of all, where she could look out upon a seemingly endless sea of pines. As a young professor, she used to come and perch here, imagining herself hopping from tree-top to tree-top until she reached the valleys of Empire Territory or the oceans of the Alliances or even the mountains seen in Faerghus. With Rhea’s melodious voice reciting religious parables in the background, Byleth’s mind would wander, imagining all of the adventures she and her father would venture out on upon their release from monastery service.

How astonished her past self would be upon learning her father would pass by age 47 and she would go on to become the archbishop herself. Maybe she would have run. 

If given the opportunity, it was certainly what her current self would do.

“Mrs.Byleth, you have a visitor!” came a sing-songy voice, interrupting Byleth’s thoughts. Flayn had peeked her head around the doorframe, dark green hair bobbing in the gentle breeze. She had grown taller, more mature in the years since the war, but retained many of her child-like qualities. Flayn was the younger sibling Byleth had always longed for.

Turning away from the bay window, Byleth gave the younger woman a gentle smile, motioning her closer with a flick of the wrist. Flayn had grinned broadly before practically throwing herself into her ex-professor’s waiting arms. 

“It’s Alois, he’s come to report on his recent trip to Derdrui,” Flayn had continued, squeezing Byleth tightly. “Everything seems to have gone well, thank Serios.”

The Archbishop hummed quietly, humor apparent in her tone. “Now now, Flayn, what would Seteth have to say about you using the Goddess’s name like that?” 

Grumbling under her breath, the younger woman pulled away, crossing her arms defiantly. “Probably something cynical, along the lines of me being banished to hell for my digressions against the church. You wouldn’t allow me to be banished to hell for eternity though, would you Professor?”

“No, definitely not,” Byleth giggled, reaching over to pat Flayn on the head. “If that was the basis for being damned for eternity, I’m rather certain most of Fódlan would be doomed.”

The two shared a laugh, Byleth feeling her heavy heart ease just a bit. She was thankful for people like Flayn, who supported her every day. “I suppose I should be going, but let’s meet for tea later, okay? Petra sent me a new blend from Brigid and I would love to share with you.”

“Ooh, most definitely!” Flayn replied, nodding vigorously. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

—

“Ah, your Grace,” Alois greeted amiably, offering an exaggerated bow as Byleth entered the audience chamber. While she was always pleased to see the man, it was odd that Dimitri was not the one to present the post-mission report; rarely would her husband miss as opportunity to visit her... but things had changed, she supposed

“Alois, you appear to be doing well,” she greeted, walking up to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “How were the nobles at Derdrui?”

“Finicky as ever; they used to fuss constantly during Rhea’s rein and they continue to cause a fuss now,” the man replied dramatically, stepping backwards as if struggling under the weight of their demands. “Thankfully, my inexorable charm and Dimitri’s irritable glare managed to placate them for now. It’s definitely something we should keep an eye on, though, not everyone is as dedicated to peace as those here in Garegg Mach.”

Byleth hummed thoughtfully, turning over the information in her head. Seteth had mentioned murmurs of unrest in former Alliance territory, although she had written them off as simply rumors; it seemed far more likely that opposition to the Church would arise in what used to be the Adrestian Empire. Alois had a tendency to over-exaggerate issues, but it was certainly something she would investigate. In particular, she was curious about her husbands take on the entire matter. Although the pair typically kept the affairs of church and state separate, there were perks to being wed to the head of Fódlan.

“Was there anything in particular that stood out to you?” she finally inquired, fingers tapping anxiously against her thigh.

“Nothing specifically, no, just a general feeling of unrest,” Alois replied, moving to rub absentmindedly at his chin. “Many houses in Leicester have never been particularly attached to the church, preferring to pick and choose their religious obligations. I’m not even entirely sure it’s something we should worry about, but wanted to keep you in the loop so to speak.”

“Thank you for that, many would choose to do otherwise,” Byleth commented offhandedly, falling into her usual pattern of supplying positive reinforcement to those around her. Although she had spent less than a year as a professor, the profession had certainly rubbed off on her. “You are a good man, Alois.”

The brunet’s face flushed. “And you a good woman, Byleth. Dimitri should feel lucky to have such a beautiful, dedicated, and intelligent wife.”

There was a palpable tension then, wherein the two locked eyes for an unusually long time. It had been so long since Byleth had felt so... admired as a woman, appreciated for what she brought to the table. When they were first married, Dimitri had practically worshipped the ground she walked on, going out of his way to leave her small gifts and whisper sweet nothings into her ear. Nowadays, they were lucky to share the same bed for more than a few hours at a time. She still loved, Dimitri, she did, but things hadn’t been the same between them since Lambert’s passing.

Alois, on the other hand, had not been romantically involved with his partner for some time, a fact everyone in the monastery knew. There were rumors he lusted for those of the same sex, others that suggested he stepped in as a father-figure for the children of another man, but it was well known there was nothing physical going on between he and his common-law wife. With the way he was gazing into her eyes with his own mossy-green one’s, Byleth had a difficult time believing that first rumor.

When his hand reached out to grab her own, supple riding leather soft against her skin, Byleth felt her heart rate increase substantially. She and Dimitri had not been physically involved for some time either; while she had the patience of a saint- likely a result of her divinity- at times desire burned hot in her belly. Would it be so wrong to satiate a hunger pang that her husband no longer desired to fill? Did she truly want the touch of another man, a friend of them both, or was this some strange manifestation of grief?

Byleth didn’t know.

Alois appeared to recognize the conflicted look on her face, because he took a step backwards; Byleth immediately missed the feeling of heat against her skin.

“I should be on my way home,” the older man stated softly, once again moving to bow flamboyantly. “My children will be eagerly be awaiting my return, or so I would like to think. I’m sure Dimitri would like to speak with you as well; I believe he was heading towards the knights hall when we last parted.”

Then, a knowing smile.

“If you need me, you know where to find me.”

Byleth felt just a little bit more empty as Alois strode out of her line of sight.

—

Dimitri stood in the middle of the knights hall, chest heaving, sword hanging limply at his side. With his hair pulled back into a small ponytail, the clenched muscles of his jaw were apparent. A lance was jabbed deep into the skull of a nearby training dummy, Dedue diligently attempting to wriggle the weapon free. 

“Dimitri...?” she called quietly, slowly approaching from behind. “Is something on your mind?”

When Byleth’s hand came into contact with his shoulder, the blond practically jumped out of his skin; Dimitri’s sharp intake of breath drew Dedue’s attention, the other man nodding solemnly at Byleth before turning back to the practice dummy.

“Ah, Byleth, I didn’t notice you there,” Dimitri greeted lamely, rubbing absentmindedly at his chest plate. A small, but steady, stream of blood trickled out of from the upper-right edge, dripping into the sawdust on the floor. “How are things?”

It took but one step for her to see him in his entirety: black smudges beneath his eye and socket, chapped lips, gaunt cheeks. There was something dark that lurked beneath the surface of his single cerulean eye, a demon she thought to have banished years before. “I’m... doing okay. You don’t seem to be.”

Dimitri hummed, bemused. “Perceptive as always, my beloved. Worry not, I just seem to have picked up a bug of sorts. I’m... fine.”

With how haggard he appeared, Blythe doubted the validity of his statement. How long had he been so... worn down? Following their last major argument, she had thrown herself into her duties, starting and seeing the ends of a multitude of projects. Pregnancy had thrown a wrench into her initiatives as archbishop, so when she was strong enough to return, her loss still raw and festering, she worked twice as hard to make up for lost time. It quenched her need for stability, but allowed for the distance between her and Dimitri to grow. 

A wet cough drew her attention back to her husband, who was wheezing into a gloved hand. He was incredibly pale, face white as a sheet.

He looked remarkably like Lambert. 

Byleth felt her stomach drop at the realization, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of her neck. 

“Haa... you will have to.. excuse me,” Dimitri muttered, leaning more fully on his blade. “This is hardly an appropriate way for a husband to greet his wife after... so long.”

Byleth lunged for him as he collapsed, barely able to prevent his skull from smashing against the floor. Under layers of plumage and thick leather, his temperature ran high. Having lost many comrades to fever, Byleth’s anxiety spiked.

“I insisted his Highness return to his quarters upon our arrival to Garegg Mach,” Dedue grouched, approaching the two nobles with hurried steps “but as usual, he failed to take my advice into account. My apologies for his sorry state, my Grace.”

“O-oh it’s entirely fine, Dedue. Is he going to be alright? He seemed a bit... off.” Her hands were shaking, trembling like the last leaf on a tree in the first storm of winter. Byleth made a pathetic attempt to hide her nerves by burying her fingers in Dimitri’s sweaty hair.

The Duscarian man gazed at Byleth long and hard; there was something toxic lurking underneath his skin, something she had sensed in Dimitri too. It made her feel uneasy. “He will be... well enough, all things considered. Things have been difficult for his Highness these last few months, as I’m sure they have been for you as well.”

There was an implication in his tone, more accusatory than sympathetic. Of course Dedue would take Dimitri’s side, they had been inseparable for over a decade. It was foolish of her to expect anything less. “Of course...”

There was an extended, awkward silence during which Dedue attempted to rouse his liege and Byleth picked idly at the sawdust clinging to her clothing like a second skin. Little needed to be said at this point, their positions on opposite sides of a dark, deep chasm clear.

“I think it would be best if I brought his Highness to the infirmary,” Dedue finally conceded, attempting to position Dimitri over his shoulder in the gentlest way possible. The smaller man was bulky, all muscle and sinew, but had lost a significant amount of weight; the awkwardness in position was largely due to how large he was rather than his mass. 

“I’m sure he would appreciate if you came to visit him later if given the opportunity.”

“Yes, definitely. Thank you, Dedue,” Byleth replied lowly, kicking idly at the dust beneath her boots. She didn’t look up as the Duscarian departed, didn’t need to. She knew the look of disappointment on his face like the back of her hand.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo, one chapter down. Always love reading feedback, so would appreciate any if you have the time. Thanks for reading!


	3. Part 2

_ The day was frigid and overcast, as most were during the long winter months in Faerghus. While residents and visitors alike bustled around Fhiridad’s streets completely unaffected, Byleth found herself huddled in front of one of the many massive hearths throughout the capital. She had taken quite easily to the layers and layers of clothing required to withstand such cold temperatures, but pregnancy had completely thrown off her body’s ability to keep warm; as of late, she found herself huddled up in front of fireplaces more often than not. Even with Dimitri’s immense mantle wrapped around her shoulders, winter’s icy fingers still attempted to wiggle their way into her bones. _

_ “Beloved, perhaps we should make our way back towards the castle,” a gravelly voice remarked, startling Byleth out of her daze. “It will certainly be warmer, and Mercedes will soon have my head for having you on your feet for so long.”  _

_ Dimitri stood several paces away, a delicately wrapped package tucked under his left arm. Despite being constantly swamped with paperwork and visiting dignitaries and inquiries from the common folk, the King of Fódlan always made time to accompany his wife into town. Whether it was to pick up a food she was craving or to visit an old student, his heavy footfalls followed her as if they were her own heartbeat. Initially she had protested, insisting that he had more important matters to tend to, but as her belly swelled with their child, Byleth began to appreciate his constant presence more and more. His heavy footfalls followed her like a heartbeat, and truly became as indispensable to her as one.  _

_ Today he was nervous, or so she inferred from the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists; it was a habit that had developed early in his days at the academy, one he had failed to break. They had traveled into town in search of some particular sweets, ones Byleth had been unable to stop thinking about. While the initial plan had been for the two of them to attend the shop together, Dimitri’s anxiety had gotten the better of him upon realizing how much Byleth shivered each time the relentless wind whipped by. As of such, the blond had practically begged his wife to wait in a nearby cafe while he retrieved the confectionary himself. After some mild prodding, Byleth had agreed, watching her husband dump a pile of coins onto the bar-top before tearing off into the snow like a man possessed.  _

_ “My my, His Highness certainly has a soft spot for his lovely wife, hmm?” An older woman commented, smiling genially at Byleth as she approached. “Was there anything I could get you to nibble on before he gets back?” _

_ Byleth had given a small smile back, shaking her head before sliding the money into the waitresses palm. She still wasn’t entirely comfortable being treated as a noble nor the conversational requirements that came with it. “I am content, but please keep this coin for the trouble we have caused. It seems as if Dimitri managed to scare off a good number of your customers.” _

_ The older woman had laughed, bowing slightly before meandering off to serve another customer, one who had just entered the shop and missed their frantic king. This left Byleth to her own devices, a reprieve if she had ever seen one. One thing she particularly liked about the Faerghesian people was their ability to sense when others desired to be alone _

_ Dimitri’s return caused Byleth’s heart to swell; although he had left her side for barely twenty minutes, she had still missed him terribly. Perhaps pregnancy had made her sentimental, or maybe this was just what it was like being desperately in love, but she hummed contently when he pulled her to his right side. Byleth couldn’t think of a place she’d rather be.  _

—-

Byleth stood outside of the infirmary, hands pressed against the oak paneling of the door. She had planned to come see her husband immediately after he had collapsed- to tend to his wounds as she once did as his professor- but had been pulled away by her duties. Seteth had approached her as she exited the training grounds, muttering about an emergency meeting with irate bishops or something of the like; in what seemed to be a blink of an eye, three days had passed without a single visit to the clinic. Realization of her actions only came when a noblewoman, attempting to garner her favor, made a sickly sweet comment about how distraught Byleth must be about her husband returning to the capital despite his injury. 

Perhaps she had been too eager to take a detour, to spurn her duties as a wife and lover, but something had felt wrong when she spoke with Dimitri. The way he had gazed at her, with that same feral blue eye from years ago, made her stomach churn with anxiety. Lambert’s unexpected death had been difficult for all of Fódlan, but it appeared to hit Dimitri the hardest. She had watched the way he had clenched his jaw during the funeral service, saw him bite his lips until they bled as their son’s small coffin was lowered into the ground. Then later, when she woke up bleary-eyed and tear-stricken, she heard him in their bathroom wracked with sobs and dry heaves. Dimitri had always been more emotional and empathetic than Byleth; that had been more apparent than ever. To this day, she wasn’t certain how to bridge that gap, how to help him without completely sabotaging herself in the process. Previously, she would have given herself completely to fix him, but now things were different. Too much rested on her shoulders- on  _ his _ shoulders- to risk both of them losing themselves.

Taking a moment to steel her resolve, Byleth sucked in a breath before pushing open the heavy door. The room was as simple as it had always been (for such a messy woman, Manuela kept the infirmary surprisingly sterile); despite a smattering or other patients, it was easy to spot Dimitri’s bed due to his massive frame. Alois stood at his bedside, gesturing animatedly as he recounted some silly tale of knights and princesses and bad puns. 

Dimitri, supported by a sizable stack of pillows, appeared amused by Alois’s ramblings. The blond king was rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, attempting to conceal a small smile as he nodded along with the tale. A cleric had clearly had a go at his hair; it was clean and neatly tied up atop his head, a few stray strands falling onto his forehead. While his chest was heavily wrapped with gauze, arms covered in a multitude of bruises, Dimitri looked to be in good spirits overall. 

Seeing her husband with such a pleasant demeanor was a sight for sore eyes. Dimitri had always been moody, but tended to give smiles and laughs more freely following the war. After their son, that propensity had ceased. Watching him now, it was as if nothing had changed; Byleth found herself mesmerized, unable to stop herself from giggling along with Dimitri at one of Alois’s lame jokes.

Immediately, Dimitri’s gaze snapped to her, reflexes honed by years of training and war. His single blue eye looked her up and down, coming to rest squarely on her face; he gave her a smile, although it was far less genuine than those he showed freely to Alois. Still, he shuttered her out. 

“Your Grace,” Alois greeted jovially upon turning to see what Dimitri was locked upon. “What a pleasant surprise! I was just telling Dimitri here about my time working as a missionary in the Empire… rather  _ empire-phatically _ might I add.”

Dimitri snorted at the line, but Byleth found she could only give a rather sorry smile. What her husband found so amusing about Alois’s humor she couldn’t be sure, but the way the knight was smiling broadly at her certainly spawned butterflies in her tummy. 

Alois continued. “Had I known you were coming to see His Highness, I would have saved this little visit for another time. After all, I don’t want to intrude on the lovebirds.”

Coming to sit gently on the side of Dimitri’s cot, Byleth shook her head gently. “Oh no, you are entirely fine, I came here on a whim. I’m sure Dimitri appreciated the company.”

Alois hummed placing his hands on his hips. “Well, regardless, I shall take my leave. I will see you in the morning, Your Highness.”

Then, a pause. 

Alois reached down to squeeze Byleth’s hand tenderly. “Please, take care of yourself, Your Grace.”

As the knight strode away, Byleth felt her face heat up. Such blatant affection, right in front of her husband... she felt a bit ashamed for enjoying the attention, for reveling in the way Dimitri furrowed his brows upon seeing the action, but another part of her- a more carnal part- burned with desire. Just as with all emotions, sexual desire had always been nothing more than a dull throb at the back of her mind. Byleth could recognize an attractive man or woman when she saw them, but her thoughts rarely went past a tender brush of the hand or a first kiss. Today, however, she reveled in the thought of fucking Alois, dropping to her knees to give him an afternoon blowjob in front of Dimitri. She longed to see her husbands ambivalent facade crack, to see some of the passion that had cause her to fall for him in the first place. 

Finally, Dimitri broke the silence, voice laced with hesitation. “I heard of your rather interesting meeting with the Bishops of Edmund. They seem to be quite a handful.”

“More than you could imagine,” Byleth snorted, fixing her husband with a small smile. He was staring at her hand, watching as her fingers drummed against the sheet of his cot. “Although I imagine you deal with just as many troublesome nobles in Fhiridad.”

“Ah, well, maybe, but I feel as if religion adds an entirely new layer of eccentricity to over-zealous subjects,” Dimitri replied, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. He had always suffered from terrible migraines, even beyond those caused by the voices of the dead; it was as if his muscles were genetically predisposed to tense up at the slightest bit of stress. While in the past Byleth would have moved to work the knots out without a word, now it seemed inappropriate to touch without permission.

_ How far they had fallen. _

Instead, she hummed noncommittally. “How are you feeling? I haven’t had time to check in with Manuela or Mercedes, but the color has come back to your cheeks.”

“Better, thank you,” the blond replied shortly, cheeks flushed as if embarrassed by the slightest bit of concern from another. “I apologize if I worried you.”

“When am I not worried about you?” Byleth joked, feeling a bit disappointed when a wave of clear discomfort washed over his face. For a trained tactician, she certainly wasn’t doing a very good job at winning this one. “By the way, I wanted to speak with you about your meeting with the nobles at Derdrui.”

Dimitri perked up at that. “Certainly, I actually planned on stopping by your office later to discuss just that.”

With how labored his breathing still was, Byleth had her doubts about such intentions. She bit her tongue. “What in particular did you have in mind?”

“While I was happy to meet with the nobles as a friend of the Archbishop, my true motive was ulterior. I attended mostly as a result of correspondence I received from House Riegan,” Dimitri stated evenly, watching her face carefully . “Claude reached out regarding rumors of a coup d’éat spreading throughout the eastern territory.”

“You’ve heard from Claude?” she inquired, surprised that the former Golden Deer house leader had reached out to Dimitri rather than her. “Is he well?”

“Very well,” Dimitri answered without missing a beat. “It seemed as if he figured we inhabited the same residence. The letter addressed us both by name, but at the time I found it prudent to keep its arrival to myself. I wished to see the situation with my own eyes before I brought it to your attention.”

Byleth pressed a knuckle to her cheek, mind chugging away at the new information; it was a mannerism she had picked up from her father. “Were you able to discern anything from your meetings?”

Another strand of hair fell into Dimitri’s face as he shook his head. “Nothing more than a general sense of unease. I requested that Sylvain and Ingrid remain in the area to collect intel, under the guise of military training of course. Hopefully there will be a messenger waiting at Fhirdiad with some sort of update on the matter.”

“Please keep me informed on the matter, if you can,” Byleth remarked, reaching over to place her hand upon Dimitri’s. Just as with all comparisons between the two of them, his hand dwarfed her own. “Matters of your safety are of great importance to the church... and to me.”

Dimitri gave her a weak smile, one that failed to reach his eye; only now did Byleth realize her husband was not wearing his eyepatch, leaving the sagging eyelid open to the world. She supposed there was no reason to, tucked away from the public in the monastery’s infirmary, but it still made her sad.

“I will do my best,” he promised after a few moments, shifting his gaze to a nearby wall. “After all, Alois will certainly be traveling between the capital and Garegg Mach often.”

Then, there was another long awkward pause. It was apparent now that Dimitri had not been blind to the small affection shared between Byleth and Alois, and the young woman felt a wave of shame wash over her. Here was Dimitri, trying his best to do what was best for himself and the Kingdom, and all she could focus on was love. How pathetic she was being.

“Perhaps.... well, perhaps you should keep this,” Dimitri muttered after another few moments of silence, pressing something round into the palm of her hand. His gaze remained on the wall, entirely unfocused. “I believe Jeralt had your best interests in mind when he handed it down, and it may serve you better if not in my possession.”

Glancing down, Byleth felt a lump form in her throat. The shimmering amethyst gems, delicate silver band, she would recognize it anywhere. Her mother’s wedding ring. 

Thoughts racing a million miles an hour and tears burning at the back of her eyes, Byleth could do nothing but gape at Dimitri. He still refused to look her in face, choosing now to study the multitude of callouses on his hands. Sweet, sweet Dimitri, the boy who had brought her flowers at 17, proposed to her at 22, and helped her create a life at 25... was doing something like this? 

She felt as if she couldn’t breathe.

“I... I see,” she finally muttered, tucking the ring into her back pocket. Her hands were trembling, trembling more than she had seen in her entire life. Of all the things he could have said, all the barbs he had spoken towards her in the past, this was certainly the worst. 

A cough reminded Byleth the two of them were not alone; simply glancing around was enough to see other sickly patients vying to listen in on the dramatics; it would certainly boost their social standing to spread the juiciest new gossip about the relationship between the Archbishop and King of Fódlan. The impending train wreck was practically palpable. 

Without another word, Byleth rose, striding blindly for the door. Even she was uncertain of her intentions, but the infirmary was suffocating her. She needed to get out.

“I just want you to be happy,” a voice croaked from behind, just barely audible. “At least one of us should be.”

Byleth could do nothing but scoff in reply, not even bothering to pause. “Of course.”

Then she slammed the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the severe depression and delusions Dimitri has during FE3H would never fully go away; emotionally taxing events, like losing his son, would only make everything worse and potentially cause an episode. Poor Byleth just doesn't know what to do. :(
> 
> Kudos and comments are extremely appreciated (let me know what you think)! Thanks you for reading :)


	4. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of missed farewells and dreams and daggers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rarely write content warnings, but this chapter does mention the death of a minor. Nothing particularly graphic, but you have been warned.

Surprising no one, Byleth did not rise in the morning to see her husband off. Instead, she perched against the window of her office, watching the party assemble and shuffle out of the gates of Garegg Mach with an unaffected demeanor. Dimitri was clearly trying his best to act unbothered by the turn of events, laughing with Alois and bellowing commands for the group from atop his steed. Still, Byleth noticed how hard his hands trembled as they clutched onto the reins, how every few minutes he directed his good eye upwards towards her. 

She refused to meet his gaze.

News of their disagreement had spread quickly, as expected.It wasn’t clear just how much other patients in the infirmary had been privy to, but clearly it was enough to cause unrest among the staff. Several serving girls had tittered nervously when she walked by, and one of the visiting bishops had stuttered through an excuse to postpone their meeting. Later, Manuela had burst into Byleth’s chambers carrying wine and chalices.

“Men really suck!” the older woman had proclaimed before unceremoniously dumping the goods all over Byleth’s coffee table; it caused several stacks of papers to scatter all over the floor. Manuela had paused before continuing. “See, look what they made me do!”

Byleth couldn’t help but laugh through her tears.

It was also the reason Mercedes was seated upon Byleth’s office desk this morning, absentmindedly picking at an uneaten pastry. She had planted herself there after offering the scone to her ex-professor, choosing to remain despite the older women turning down the baked treat. 

“You know, I’m a bit surprised His Highness chose to leave today,” Mercedes remarked, breaking the silence. “The infection in his chest was really quite awful.”

“Oh?” Byleth inquired, tone wavering between irritation and amusement. “With how quickly he scrambled out of here, you would assume he was completely healed.”

“That is most definitely not the case. Several of our best healers were drained before Dimitri could even strap into his armor,” the younger woman commented, twirling a bit of blonde hair around her finger. “May the Goddess bless their souls.”

Humming lowly, the Archbishop turned to look upon Mercedes more fully. “Wasn’t his injury comprised only of a flesh wound and some bruising? That hardly seems like suitable breeding grounds for serious infection.”

Mercedes flicked a piece of flaky crust off the scone plate before continuing. “Well, according to Manuela, the wound was relatively new, whereas the infectious agent had been lying dormant for some time. Dimitri was likely seeded with the parasite previously and it was lying in wait for his immune system to be compromised; we were lucky to have caught it when we did, the damage could have been much worse.”

“How did the doctors come to that conclusion?” Byleth inquired, mulling over the information in her mind. The entire situation was just... odd.

“It’s an organism that none of the attending physicians have encountered before, nor one that we can link to any known species historically,” Mercedes replied, her restraint finally breaking as she took a large bite of the untouched scone. “Typically that implies it was summoned by a black magic user, a skilled one at that.”

“Is that so? Why we haven’t faced such a foe since, well since the war,” the young archbishop commented, rubbing absentmindedly at her chin. 

“Hubert was... a dark man, your Grace,” Mercedes replied between chews “I wouldn’t doubt his use of biological warfare to meet his aims.”

Byleth made a noncommittal noise in response, turning back to her position at the window. The group meant for Faerghus was finally leaving, with Alois at the front and Felix at the rear; Dimitri sat upon his steed somewhere in the middle. Just as her husband, looking regal as ever, was about to exit through the gates, he turned one last time to look at her.

This time, she maintained eye contact.

—

That night, Byleth dreamed, dreamed of the 400 days that had turned her life into a living nightmare.

_ The labor had been arduous, more tiring than any battle she had been involved in. Despite mutters of impropriety from Priests and even several nursemaids, Dimitri had remained by her side throughout. _

_ “If I go to hell, so be it,” he had remarked, shooting a glare at a particularly mouthy young man who was tasked with refilling the rooms water basin each time it ran dry. “This is just a drop in the bucket compared to the atrocities I have committed in my lifetime. Besides, it is a worthy price to pay if I can offer even some comfort to my beloved as she works to bless us with a child.” _

_ Now, with the baby tucked snuggly in her arms and Dimitri’s chest pressed warmly against her back, she couldn’t be more thankful for her husbands stubborn nature. _

_ The child- a boy- had come into the world screaming, red-faced and fists-clenched. Soft teal hair sprouted from the top of his head like the fuzz on a peach, complemented beautifully by icy blue eyes. Later, friends would comment on how he had his mother’s lips and his father’s nose, but for now all Byleth could focus on was how tiny he appeared. _

_ “He is so small,” Dimitri murmured, words mimicking her own thoughts. “I fear I may crush him by mistake.” _

_ Byleth hummed softly in reply, moving to run her fingers gently across the baby’s forehead. “I too carry that fear in my heart, but we all started out this small. If you and I were able to become strong and capable under our parents guidance, so will this little one.” _

_ “That is... a comforting thought,” Dimitri remarked after a few moments. “I am hopeful that our parents are proudly watching over us from above, and will offer their protection to our son as he grows.” _

_ “I am certain they will,” she replied, smiling fondly as the baby burbled in her arms. The thought of her burly father traversing forests of Fódlan conducting mercenary business with a tiny child wrapped around his chest brought pleasant memories to mind; her childhood used to be a blur, a hodge-podge of random conversations and events, but such recollections came far easier now. It was due to such thoughts that she barely noticed her eyelids drooping shut as she dozed off. _

_ “Rest easy my beloved, we will both be here when you rise,” Dimitri practically cooed into her ear, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. _

_ Then, much quieter. _

_ “And thank you.” _

_ —- _

Then she was floating, rocketing through what appeared to be an endless abyss of recollections. On either side, memories played out as if they had been recorded verbatim in her brain. 

_ First, there was waking to Dimitri humming sweet lullabies to their son, gently rocking the small child in his arms. He would become so flustered if caught in the act (claiming his voice was off-kilter and terribly unbecoming) but always willed her to join the two of them. Then, their small family trio would spend the morning laughing and singing and dancing around the royal chambers. _

_ There were flashes of the baby’s first babbles, then gurgles of ‘mama’ and ‘papa;’ his first crawl across Dimitri’s office floor and the initial steps taken in Byleth’s study. The baby was gregarious and always ready to play; Felix ended up being his favorite uncle, and the young lord begrudgingly-although secretly pleased- played the same role his father had for Dimitri. _

_ As was tradition in Faerghus, the child’s name was not announced to the public until he was a year old; this practice was rooted in the past, from when medicine was not so advanced and infants often died in their first few months. Dimitri had been incredibly anxious over their choice of a name, worried that the people were superstitious and would label their son as cursed for being named after a murdered man. To his surprise, the residents of Fódlan rejoiced upon Lambert’s introduction, perhaps even more than when their savior kind retook Fhiridad. Byleth was not sure who shed more tears that day, the entirety of Faerghus or Dimitri alone. _

From her position as a spectator, Byleth felt bile begin to rise in her throat. The end for her beloved son- for her entire life with Dimitri- was fast approaching, and it appeared as if there was nothing she could do to stop it. No matter how she flailed her arms or kicked her legs, she was paralyzed, bound for an inevitable collision with fate.

_ It had been a sunny day, one in which Byleth had decided to sleep in. Just the evening before, she had returned from her first trip to Garegg Mach since giving birth to Lambert. While it was wonderful to be back working in her office, to have afternoon tea with Flayn and Mercedes, she would be lying if she didn’t admit she had missed her boys terribly. Dimitri had welcomed her back with a massive hug, smooshing Lambert in between their bodies. Upon being released, the child had immediately clung to Byleth, grabbing the chain that hung from her neck and stuffing it into his mouth. While the thought of cleaning the piece later was a mild annoyance, she didn’t have the heart to yank it away from her son. _

Looking back, Byleth was thankful. It was such small moments that she missed the most.

_ Dimitri had shaken her awake, movements more jilted than they had been in years. The first thing she noticed upon opening her bleary eyes was how frazzled her husband appeared, hair going every which way and blue eye dilated. Rarely was Dimitri driven to such a state, to lose control of his emotions completely. _

_ “Lambert,” he gasped out, placing one hand on each of her shoulders. “Lambert is sick, he-he’s throwing up everywhere, I-“ _

_ Heart dropping into the pit of her stomach, Byleth cut him off. “Dimitri, you need to calm down. Take a deep breath. What happened?” _

_ Releasing Byleth’s shoulder, Dimitri stood to his full height, leg bouncing nervously against the wooden floorboards. “Lambert and I were in the nursery, just playing, when he suddenly collapsed. At first I thought it was some sort of anemic episode, since the doctor had mentioned he had low iron levels, but then he started throwing up, convulsing everywhere. His eyes rolled back in his head, and no matter what I tried, he wouldn’t come to. I-I’ve called the healers and the physician, but nothing seems to be helping.” _

_ Only now did Byleth realize how hard Dimitri’s hands were trembling; never before in her life had she seen him so unnerved. Perhaps if she had been in his shoes, been the one to see their child crumble, she would be in a similar state. Fate apparently had other plans however; she still had her wits about her and thus had to be the one with the cool head. _

_ Releasing a deep breath, Byleth day up in bed. “Take me to him.” _

_ By the time they arrived it was too late; internal bleeding had begun days prior according to the head physician, but their personable little boy had shown no signs of discomfort. Only when his body had shut down, when he had begun to choke up discolored lung tissue into his father’s hands, would anyone be the wiser to his condition. _

_ Byleth was devastated, but Dimitri was decimated. Immediately following Lambert’s untimely passing, each morning was dedicated to paperwork, followed by an afternoon of meeting; many guests would offer their condolences for the late little prince, but Dimitri would barely acknowledge their words. Following hours of strenuous training, he would sit up late into the night comforting his wife before heading to the cathedral until dawn. Had she known of the cycle of torment her husband was putting himself through, the eventual impact of that torture, she may have tried harder to stop it. Hindsight did that to a person, though, made them think they could have and would have done something to change the outcome of a bad situation. _

_ At the time, she had been too caught up in herself, in trying to produce a divine pulse and turn back the hands of time. If only she could catch Lambert’s illness before it progressed, alert a doctor of his impending doom, all misery could be averted. She had brought Fódlan salvation once, in the form of their Savior King, she could certainly do it again with Dimitri’s son. _

_ Despite her best efforts- hours of meditating, research in the library, reviewing her usage of the skill in the past- very little came of her attempts. After a particularly difficult day, one in which she had tried to rip her own abdomen open in a desperate bid to trigger the power, she found herself waking from slumber in an ever-familiar dark room. _

_ “Child,” a small woman boomed from atop the throne, “you must cease these foolish actions at once.” _

_ Byleth felt her jaw clench involuntarily. Even now, after years of backseat commentary from Sothis, the goddess’s bossy commands still drove her mad. “You know I can’t do that.” _

_ Sothis cocked her head to the right, raising a single finely groomed eyebrow. “I am certain that you can. After all, you and I are one of the same.” _

_ Letting out a single, even breath, Byleth attempted to gather her frazzled nerves. “What I meant to say is that far too much relies on this child. There will be unrest, fear of a battle for succession of the throne.” _

_ “The people will be fine, especially considering they have just been pulled from an era of turmoil, death, and destruction,” Sothis countered haughtily, moving to stand from her place on the throne. “They may weep on behalf of their king, but care little for a prince they scarcely met. I am almost positive your intentions are far more selfish.” _

_ Byleth felt something begin to burn in her belly, a mixture of rage and shame. Sothis was... correct in her assumption, but how blatantly she wrote off Lambert’s existence _ ** _pissed her off._ ** _ “It is in the best interest of Fódlan to have a healthy first born royal heir. While the people may be fine with the current state of things, it is best if we shoot for stability. Even if I must go back before conception, I-“ _

_ “Do not misunderstand me,” Sothis tutted, descending from the altar she was perched upon, “you can try as many times as you like, but there is nothing you can do to prevent this. Even if you marry another, encourage your husband to have a mistress with which to breed, the child will die in the same miserably way.” _

_ Balking, the archbishop could do nothing but stare as the goddess approached. _

_ “No matter what you do, your first child is bound to die,” Sothis stated evenly, taking Byleth’s hands into her own. “You can throw back the hands of time over and over again, but nothing is going to change that fate.” _

_ “But... why,” Byleth managed, feeling the familiar sting of tears at the back of her eyes. “First my father, now my son... what have I done to deserve such misery?” _

_ Sothis smiled sympathetically at her other half, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear from the taller woman’s cheek. “I... am unsure. Fate is unfair, it seems, but this appears to depend more on your husband than you. For a man that initially seemed so kind, he certainly has a wealth of demons.” _

_ “That matters little to me; I will always be there for him, just as he will be there for me,” Byleth shot back. “If Lambert must pass, we will simply try again.” _

_ Sothis grinned, a bright, broad thing. “Well, hopefully by then whatever is plaguing Dimitri will have been taken care of by that time.” _

_ “Definitely.” _

—-

Byleth woke with a start, breaths coming in heavy gasps. 

Even now, after all these years, Edelgard continued to ruin Dimitri’s very existence. Of course she would have thought ahead, how she would secure victory even in the case that her mortal body failed; she knew him to be emotional, weak to whims of the heart. What better way to destroy a man so empathetic than by allowing him peace before wickedly ripping it away?

There could be only one possible vehicle of transport in Byleth’s mind, symbolic in far too many ways to be overlooked by a woman as precise as Edelgard.

The dagger. It had been the dagger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter bc of the sappy interactions between Byleth, Dimitri, and their child... I'm a sucker for sweetness mixed in with a lot of pain lol. If you have the time/enjoyed the chapter, please consider taking the time to leave kudos or a comment! They really make my day. Thanks for reading!


	5. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It still hurts.

Despite the terrifying revelation of her dream, Byleth had been unable to find time to speak with Dimitri in person. There had been the disappearance of a student from the newly-established academy (the girl had simply eloped with her much-older lover), a rat infestation in the monastery granary, and several minor quarrels between regional bishops. While she had exchanged a great number of letters with her husband, the topic of their deceased child hardly seemed appropriate to discuss in official documents. It had to wait, and the wait ended up being quite arduous. 

Finally, though, Byleth found an opportunity to visit Fhirdiad in the form of Faerghus’s Founder’s Day celebration Neither she nor Dimitri had any particular interest in the festivities, but typically held a gala in order to bolster the spirits of their people (or rather, the nobles who would then be kinder to their subjects). It was not odd that the Archbishop would attend such an event, and so few would question her motivations in visiting her husband.

It had been some time since she had been to the Holy Kingdom’s capital; while Byleth typically preferred to ride into the city on a steed, decorum required she arrive in a carriage; although she had moaned and groaned a bit about the situation initially, it provided a great opportunity to view the bustling city without facing the harsh winds of Fhirdiad. 

Finally, the horses trotted to a stop, signaling they had arrived. After a few moments of nothing but murmuring voices outside the carriage door, Seteth popped open the compartment and announced her arrival.

“I am pleased to announce the arrival of Archbishop to the Church of Serios and Queen Regent of Faerghus, Byleth Eisner,” he boomed, offering a steady hand to help her out of the carriage. 

As expected, there were a number of people awaiting her arrival. Ingrid, Annette, and Sylvain called her name from one side, with several nobles haughtily tittering on the other. Most surprising, however, was Dimitri’s station on the top of the grand stairs leading up to the castle; although he used to wait with baited breath for her arrival before their son’s passing, the habit had died along with the child. Seeing him there now set something slight in her belly and she descended the stairs two steps as a time. 

“Dimitri,” she breathed out, practically launching herself at the man. While he caught her easily, it appeared he was rather surprised by her enthusiasm. “How I’ve missed you so.”

“I’m pleased to have you attend the celebration, Your Grace,” he replied cooly, squeezing Byleth gently before setting her on the ground. Almost hesitantly, the Faerghusian King rested his hands against her hips. “The people will be happy to see you as well.”

“That’s an understatement surely. I don’t think I’ve had so many flowers lobbed at me since the end of the war,” she noted, a smile playing at the edge of her lips.

Dimitri hummed, amused. His one good eye was fixed upon her face, studying her as if she held the secrets to the universe. This interest was strange but familiar, lighting a primal fire in her belly she believed to have been extinguished months ago. It took an immense amount of her will not to invite him back to their chambers for a private talk. Instead, seeing Annette fidgeting at the edge of her peripheral vision, she leaned up to plant a kiss on Dimitri’s cheek.

“I’ll see you at the ball tonight, beloved,” Byleth whispered lowly, brushing her fingers tips against his nape as she pulled away. “Make sure to save a dance for me, okay?”

“Of course, beloved,” Dimitri stuttered out; the flush on his cheeks was light, but did not go unnoticed.

—-

“Claude!” Byleth exclaimed upon recognizing the familiar green eyes of her old student. “It’s been too long.”

Several hours had passed since her arrival to Fhirdiad, most spent in a flurry of preparations for the gala. Handmaids and tailors had worked relentlessly to clothe her in the finest fabrics Fódlan had to offer while Annette fussed with her hair. The entire process had been tedious, but Byleth couldn’t help but feel pleased with the final look; an elegant white gown accentuated her natural curves, with a high slit near the thigh showing just the right amount of leg. Her jewelry was understated- a conscious choice considering how highly the church valued altruism- with the most obvious piece being her crown. Much like Rhea, she preferred to weave flowers into the piece as a sign of goodwill towards the land; Faerghus, with its infertile soil, needed such a blessing more than anywhere else.

She had been escorted in on Dimitri’s arm, as was tradition, but her husband had quickly been whisked away by visiting noblewomen; it seemed as if news of their recent public spat had made its way through the court gossip channels. As always, Dimitri had appeared uncomfortable with the idea of dancing with random individuals, but too polite to decline invitations. This left Byleth alone, standing on the edge of the floor half heartedly sipping a flute of champagne. 

Claude’s sudden appearance had caught her entirely off guard, as was made evident when she practically threw her glass aside to embrace him. Although she vaguely remembered Dimitri mentioning the young lord planned to visit soon, she rarely had time to think of anything but the church and Fódlan’s instability; his easy smile lifted a burden Byleth did not realize she was carrying.

“I can’t agree more, Teach,” Claude hummed in agreement, nodding his head before extending a hand. “Sorry to interrupt your thoughts, but I couldn’t stand to see you looking so lonely. Would you be willing to share this dance with me?”

Byleth felt her heart flutter in her chest at the offer; it reminded her so much of her first ball at the Officer’s Academy years ago, when she had been too shy to take to the floor by her own volition. Then too Claude had offered her reprieve, just as he did now; the young man’s perceptivity was astounding, even to this day. 

“Why of course, I was beginning to think you would never ask.”

The two royals took to the floor, swaying in tandem to the soft orchestral track. Although Claude whispered softly of gossip in both Almyra and between members of the previous Golden Deer, Byleth found her eyes drawn to Dimitri’s towering form. The man was currently dancing with a petite woman, with her platinum blond hair and lilac eyes; he appeared utterly entranced by her beauty, judging by the way his eyes drank in her form like a man parched. Acrid jealousy flared up in Byleth’s gut as she watched, unable to snatch Dimitri’s attention away even as she guided Claude to brush against the Faerghusian king.

“Hello, Your Grace, you in there?” a voice finally cut in, causing Byleth’s attention to snap back to her dance partner. “I know his Kingliness looks awfully handsome tonight, but we just about took out an elderly couple in your attempt to wiggle closer.”

Feeling her cheeks flush, Byleth directed her gaze towards the floor. She may have inherited the Goddesses power, but often still found her actions guided by selfish, human motivations. How pathetic. “I apologize for my negligence, it’s hardly becoming of someone of my stature.”

“Ah, relax Teach,” Claude reassured, patting her on the shoulder. “I doubt anyone actually noticed but me, the strong rum Faerghus is known for seems to have already taken hold.”

Based on how sloppily some of the nobles were waltzing, such an observation appeared to be correct. An older man was passed out beneath a table. Lorenz was breathing in a young woman’s face with rank breath (as was obvious by the look of disgust on her face). Even Alois was affected, leaning in to nip at his wife’s pale neck. 

[So much for the two of them being ‘platonic.’]

Byleth could only nod as she let her eyes trail towards where Dimitri stood, regal as ever. Eyes unclouded by alcohol, he still appeared enamored by the young maiden in front of him. 

Despite the plethora of people gathered in Fhirdiad, Byleth wasn’t sure she had ever felt so alone. 

—

It was barely 7 A.M when Byleth found herself sitting in the castles Solarium, absentmindedly picking the petals off a nearby flower. Dimitri sat across a small table from her, clearly a bundle of nerves. He was still sweaty from morning training, and appeared to have forgone a shave; stubble spurt erratically from his chin and cheeks. The fact he kept clenching and unclenching his fists didn’t go unnoticed by Byleth either.

“So,” Dimitri began, moving to swirl the chamomile tea in his mug. “How are things at Garegg Mach?”

Byleth studied him closely, failing to catch his one good eye as she replied. “Very well. Restoration of the largest of the mausoleums is almost complete, and the Officer’s Academy has several promising students this year. We really couldn’t ask for things to go anymore smoothly.”

“Ah, well that’s wonderful to hear,” Dimitri noted blandly. He opened his mouth as if to continue, but instead shoved a small pastry past his chapped lips.

Byleth ruminated in the silence for a few moments before she spoke. “I’m pleased to see you are eating again, a pallid King does not reflect well on the kingdom.”

“Yes, well grief will do that to a man,” the blond replied snidely, crushing a cookie he had planned to eat in his fist instead. “An absent queen does not reflect kindly on her kingdom, either.”

Having not meant to incite an argument, Byleth reached across the small tea table to place a hand on Dimitri’s knee. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to criticize you, but rather commend you on your progress. It brings me great joy to see you healing.”

“I should offer my apologies as well,” Dimitri muttered after a hearty sigh, rubbing at his temples. “I am a bit... tense, this morning.

Just as Byleth was going to inquire further, there was a small knock at the door. “Your Grace, Your Highness, there is a matter than requires your immediate attention in the courtyard.” 

“Understood,” Dimitri called in response, voice heavy with unstated emotion. With another sigh, he rose and offered his hand to Byleth. 

“Well, shall we see to it, My Grace?”

If Byleth had a heartbeat, she was certain it would have pounded a little faster at that moment.

—-

The walk through the halls of Castle Fhirdiad was quiet until Dimitri suddenly lunged to the right, a dark corner. The action was so quick that Byleth was barely able to make out another figure with a onyx-colored blade in their hand. 

“Why won’t you just die already?” a feminine voice snarled as Dimitri yanked the perpetrator from the shadows.

Silvery-blonde hair. Eyes colored like pale wisterias. It was the same maiden that had held Dimitri’s attention the night prior.

“My beloved cousin, I’m pleased to see you are feeling perky this morning,” Dimitri drawled, squeezing the pale wrist within his grasp until a dagger slipped from the young woman’s fingers. “I just wish you refrained from such... violent tendencies this early in the day.”

The young woman attempted to recoil, failing to pry off the strong fingers encircling her wrist. “You are the devils incarnate, and deserve to be banished to hell with the rest of your brethren. El’s soul will not rest until you are put to rest beside her.”

Byleth heard the breath Dimitri sucked in, was able to visualize the anguished look on his face even with his back turned. Even in death, Edelgard’s will lived on.

“Wouldn’t that be lovely, Dimitri?” the young maiden continued, eyes glimmering with barely-disguised malice. “To live forever with your best friend, without the restraints of this cruel world? To greet your father again, to hold your son?”

“If you wish to live, you _ will  _ hold your  _ wicked _ tongue,” Dimitri growled, tone wavering. 

Byleth bit her cheek, relishing in the familiar taste of iron. This woman, this fool, was dragging Dimitri towards the edge of his sanity, to a place he had managed to avoid since the war. Still, it felt inappropriate to intervene; she would be there to pick up his broken pieces, but had no right to dictate whether he chose to shatter them in the first place. It would be hypocritical to do so.

The maiden hummed, ceasing the endless tugging on Dimitri’s hand to instead trail her fingers along his wrist. “I’ve talked with him, you know, he’s gotten quite good at speaking. It makes him quite sad that his daddy let him die, just like his grandpa, but said he would forgive it you just joined him.”

Pulling away to tap a single finger against supple lips, the pale-haired woman continued. “How did he put it? ‘ _ Dada, please won’t you come see me? Dada, I miss yo-“ _

“Silence, you fucking  _ wretch _ !” Dimitri snarled, ripping his own dagger from it’s place at his waist. He thrust the blade into her neck until the hilt was flush against flesh. Then, a few wet gurgles followed by silence.

Immobilized, Byleth watched as Dimitri began to tremble, as he pulled the dagger from the petite woman’s corpse, as he collapsed to his knees. Only then did she approach. 

“Why do they continue to torment me, Byleth?” the blond groaned, pressing his forehead to the now-sticky rug in an attempt to ground himself. “Was my sin simply being born to this cursed house?”

The Archbishop gently kneeled beside her husband, ignoring the feeling of blood seeping into the lace of her chemise. Softly-ever so softly-she began to run her fingers through his hair. It was sweaty and knotted, but she paid no mind.

“I am uncertain,” she murmured lowly, moving to cup his cheek as he tilted his head upwards. “but whatever it may be, we will absolve it, together.”

Dimitri leaned into her touch, closing his good eye in the process. “I have... forgotten how warm and comforting your hands are. I have... missed them.”

Byleth hummed . It seemed as if everything was going to be copacetic.    
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a long time with this half-written, agonizing over whether I should stuff everything into this chapter or just add an epilogue; although this still feels a little rushed to me, I am going to add an additional part just to wrap up loose ends more fully. I began writing this when I wasn't familiar with all of the characters (cough Alois cough) so some actions taken bu characters are a bit weird. Nevertheless wanted to finish it. Shout out to bchemicalromance bc without your comment about it, I probably would have left it to rot forever as unfinished LOL.
> 
> Please let me know what you think with kudos and comments; as always, they are very appreciated!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....and so it ends.

The morning was warm and sunny, as was typical for spring days at Garreg Mach. Byleth found herself sitting at the desk in her study, once again chipping away at a massive pile of paperwork. The beginning of planting season always brought a multitude of requests from farmers (as well as counseling requests from their spouses). Additionally, Hanneman and Manuela were drowning her in their own inquiries; the two were co-authoring a case-study about the dark magic Hubert had cast and the results on her overall health. While the task was a necessary one, something that would benefit generations to come, it still tweaked Byleth’s heartstrings in peculiar ways. 

Following the incident at Faerghus’s founding celebration, Byleth had come clean go those closest to her about her dreams of the dagger and dark magic. Although Dimitri had appeared conflicted and unbelieving at first, the admission had brought them closer together in the end. For the first time in three years (but what felt like a decade) the two had mourned their son opening together; the process was painful, but healing, as was exhibited when Dimitri began to openly express emotions other than sorrow around her once again. 

Additionally, the two royals had met with King Claude of Almayra to discuss the uprisings that had taken place in the eastern portion of the continent. It appeared as if the attempts were egged on by the remnants of the Hresvelg family, headed by none other than the cousin who had attempted to attack Dimitri outside of the solarium. With her passing, the drive of the group had fizzled out; no further problems were expected from those remaining. The rest of that meeting had been spent playing with Claude’s heir, who had been brought in on the hip of his mother Hilda. 

Things had settled down since then, with Byleth herself spending several months in Fhirdiad before returning to her post at Garreg Mach. Thankfully, Dimitri tended to visit her far more now than in previous years, much to Seteth’s chagrin (Byleth was often... distracted by her husband and very little work tended to be finished on time). This week, in fact, happened to be one such time, or so Byleth was reminded from a knock from the threshold of her office. 

“What do you think about Eleanor?” Dimitri called from the doorway, looking a bit flustered. “For a girl, I mean.”

Byleth let her left hand fall to her belly, cupping the small swell there. She was hardly three months along, far from the point when they would be able to determine the baby’s gender. In fact, she had only announced the news of her pregnancy to Dimitri the night before; her husband had sobbed, but she had not missed the joy in his eyes.

“Wasn’t that the name of-“

“My cousin, yes, the one who attempted to raise a rebellion,” Dimitri finished easily, coming to stand behind his wife. His hands, so calloused and warm, immediately went to massage the knots out of her shoulders.

Byleth hummed appreciatively, leaning back to rest her head against Dimitri’s abdomen. “Are you not afraid of what the people may think, of the connotations of naming your heir after such a person?”

“I have long abandoned such superstitious ideas,” the blond admitted after some time. “Eleanor was a strong, passionate woman, much like Edelgard. Having been raised in the same household and in similar circumstances, I’m unsurprised she attempted to carry out my El’s agenda, even if it resulted in her own death.”

“I see,” Byleth noted; she could tell Dimitri had more on his mind, and allowed him the time to organize his thoughts. 

“If we were to have a daughter, I believe it would be a blessing for her to be as strong and driven as her aunties, to have the ability to carve a path to whatever future she deemed best,” he finally continued, leaning down to rest his chin upon his wife’s head. 

“That’s a lovely thought,” Byleth commented, twisting in her chair to face Dimitri more fully. “You are always so introspective, I love that about you.”

The blond’s cheeks flushed ruby-red as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “You flatter me. It was you who taught me to be pensive in the first place.”

“Perhaps that’s why we make such an excellent team, you and I,” she replied, tilting her head up as she motioned him downwards. “Whatever comes next, we will face it together.”

“I could not agree more, my beloved,” Dimitri cooed back, leaning down to place a kiss on his wife’s lips.

—

Eleanor Alexis Blaiddyd was welcomed into the world as a healthy baby girl on the 22nd day of the Red Wolf Moon. Under the loving guidance of her parents, she became a strong ruler and ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity into both Faerghus and Fódlan as a whole.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A happy ending for our fav couple :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is estimated to have 4 parts, minus the prologue. Thanks for reading.


End file.
